


Outshining the Stars

by thelarenttrap



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Brunch, Campfires, Camping, Coming Out, Jet skiing, M/M, Mythology References, also fun game, jk don't you'd get too drunk, not the kinky kind, obama refernces, sexual realizations, so like common vernacular water sports, so much star imagery, take a shot everytime I mention Harry's tiny shorts, the most celestial thing you'll ever read, they're american, what else...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 13:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelarenttrap/pseuds/thelarenttrap
Summary: “From here, the stars are so clear and it’s so serene,” Harry says to the sky. “I’ve seen Saturn so many times.”Louis doesn’t know how to participate in this conversation, but he is fine with just listening. He could listen to Harry forever he thinks. He loves the slow way he talks, like there is no hurrying in the world.“Do you know the stars?” Harry asks.Louis turns to look at Harry instead of the sky. “No, but I want to.”. . .Louis is RV camping with his retired grandparents and avoiding life. Meanwhile, a boy with tiny yellow shorts and tattoos works at the campground's marina.





	1. Toes in the Sand

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to be posting this, I conceived this idea over the 4th of July and wrote this in a hectic haze in like three weeks. 
> 
> If you don't know much about RVs and travel trailers, here's the details you need to know: "travel trailer" refers to a camper that cannot drive itself. A fifth wheel is the kind of travel trailer where the body of the trailer extends over the pick-up truck bed. "RV" refers to the big motor homes where they can drive themselves. Airstreams are a brand of trailer. They're the classic, kind of retro ones you see that are all silver. Hopefully the story isn't bogged down with trailer details, I tried to keep them sparse!
> 
> [This](https://www.keystonerv.com/showroom/toy-haulers/raptor/floorplans/355ts/) is Louis's grandparent's trailer. And [this](https://blog.jelanieshop.com/automobile-and-bicycle/airstream-trailers/) is what imagine Harry's trailer to look like.  
> And [the dog](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australian_Cattle_Dog#/media/File:ACD-blue-spud.jpg)

Louis feels more or less like he’s been banished. He understands that as Lottie gets older, she can take some of his responsibility with their younger siblings, and that his mom’s new boyfriend is providing for them now too. But after a little back talk and another display of his incomplete support of Dan being in their lives, this feels like a punishment.

Louis is a tactful grandson however. In the backseat of Grandpa William’s pickup, he zips his lips and stares out the window. His eyes scan the passing Florida scrub and eclectic coastal towns. Their dog, Barack, has his head on Louis’s thigh and Louis absentmindedly scratches his ear.

“You’re going to love it,” Grandma Maggie tells him from shotgun. “We stayed here all last winter and the people are so lovely and the view is amazing.”

Louis highly doubts he is going to to be bonding with the blue haired crew living in Floridian RV parks. Granted, the RVs are extraordinarily nice, with all kinds of features and moving furniture (apparently Louis will be sleeping in a bunk that electronically lowers from the ceiling in the back room where they store their bikes during travel).

“Looking forward to seeing the ocean,” Louis tells her. Even if his mum is trying to get him out of her hair for a bit, he will admit it is incredibly nice of his grandparents to accommodate him.

“Just twenty minutes now,” Grandpa William says from behind the wheel. He is a quiet man. Some would say stoic, but Louis has seen his eyes crinkle in glee as he lifts his youngest grandchildren above his head. He hasn’t been able to do that with Louis for near on two decades, but Louis knows Grandpa William still loves him. He’s a softie deep down.

Louis pulls his phone out of the seat pocket by his knees and checks his messages. There is one unanswered text from his mom, asking him to let her know when they arrive at the RV park. Otherwise, it is devoid of activity. He sighs.

Mind drifting, Louis doesn’t notice they are crossing onto the island until Grandma Maggie is reaching behind her seat to pat his knee. “Look, sweetie!”

Louis sits up and looks out his window. Barack scrambles to his feet and looks out the window on the other side of the car. Grandpa William has cracked it and Barack has his nose pressed to the crack, legs straining to make him tall enough to reach his first breath of ocean air.

They cross a draw bridge, truck bumping over the giant steel joints that raise the entire road for large boats to pass. Then they are on the island. The intercoastal water is lined with single story homes, docks extending from almost every yard. The car turns left on the main street of the island, where a gas station, a diner, and a single convenience store sit.

“Slow down, Bill,” Grandma Maggie says. The truck begins to crawl where sand has blown across the road. There are tire tracks from other vehicles, but it is obvious this stretch of road is not well traveled. They continue at the crawling pace for nearly ten minutes, receiving glimpses of sparkling ocean between trees and knolls.

“What temperature does the car say it is?” Louis asks. After feeling indifferent towards this trip for most of the eighteen hours in the truck, Louis is now finding himself excited at the prospect of spending part of his winter in Florida. It is a ridiculously beautiful day, as though their arrival is blessed.

“Almost eighty,” Grandpa William reads. “It’s going to be perfect tonight for sitting around the fire.”

As lovely as this sounds, this is also Louis’s fear about this entire trip; what if all they do is hangout at a campsite for a fortnight? This will bore him to _death_. As much as he loves his grandparents, he needs some adventure and exploration, something new and fun rather than feeling like they are infinitely sitting in the living room after dinner on Thanksgiving.

They pass a small brown sign and then they are turning right, Barack nearly losing his balance at the window and leaving it to pace across the back seat to step on Louis and look out _his_ window.

“Barrie, bud--no, you weigh too much,” Louis says, gently pushing Barack to sit in the middle seat instead of _on_ Louis’s lap.

“We’re here,” Grandma Maggie sings as they pull through an open gate. Almost immediately, the landscape around them turns distinctly beach-like. Now that they are past the long grass dunes of the island, sandy beach stretches from them to the ocean. The tires are on a boardwalk, creating a steady rhythm with each wood seam they pass over.

“When you guys said ‘on the ocean’ I thought you meant like… a short walk. Or within view. Not literally _on the beach_ ,” Louis says, eyes glued to the landscape.

Grandpa William laughs. “We wanted to return for a reason. Nothing else quite like this.”

They drive just a minute more down the boardwalk road before coming to the camp office. Louis clips on Barack’s leash and lets him pee while his grandparents check in for the campsite. As Barack lifts his leg at a signpost, Louis just stares at the water. The campground must have a marina, as a small dock stretches into the waves. A row of jet skis are tethered to the wood, as well as a few large speed boats and one vessel closer to a yacht than anything else on the dock. A splash draws Louis attention and he spots a head in the water, near the back of a boat. Aboard, a young man around Louis’s age stands, talking to the man in the water. His hair is long, peeking from beneath the backwards hat pulled down tightly to his ears. He is shirtless and even from this distance Louis can spot a few tattoos standing starkly against his skin. But what really catches Louis’s attention is the way his somewhat broad shoulders taper into a tiny waist tucked into a pair of bright yellow, short swim trunks. Louis can’t remember the last time he saw a boy in his generation not wearing long board shorts, let alone shorts one step away from a speedo. As Louis stares, the man turns and catches his eye. They look at one another for a moment before Louis obviously moves his head to look further down the beach.

A tug on the leash draws Louis’s attention back to Barack. The dog is trying to walk back to the car, and Louis realizes his grandparents are getting back in the cab. He hurries over, Vans filling with sand, and opens the door for Barack to jump into the backseat. Louis slides in behind.

“Site 64,” Grandma Maggie tells him. “Same one we had last winter, it’s amazing!”

Louis reads the site numbers to his grandparents as they drive down the boardwalk, their eyes too aged to read the tiny numbers on the posts. When they reach the site, Louis and Grandma Maggie exit the vehicle to stand at the back of the site and help Grandpa William back the forty foot trailer onto the sand.

“A little left!” Grandma Maggie yells and the car pulls forwards and then begins backing up again, closer to the electrical box they will plug the trailer into. Louis’s mind wanders and he turns to the ocean, behind them. Living this close to the water feels like something from a movie, like a Disney channel original where kids have too much money and time and can go surfing everyday and meet the love of their life. Things like this don’t happen to a kid from a broken home in Philadelphia.

 

Within the hour, their campsite is set. Louis watches in amazement as the trailer is leveled and stabilized all by internal controls.

“We’re old, we paid for the robot to do it for us,” Grandpa William tells Louis as he stands in the doorway of the trailer with a finger on the leveling button. Louis laughs.

Between arriving and dinner, Louis’s curiosity gets the better of him and he decides to explore the campground. Should he be putting sheets on his bunk? Probably. But he won’t. Louis asks if he can take Barack, knowing the dog has a lot of energy. Grandma Maggie gives an elated yes.

“Love him, but he is pinging off the walls,” she says with a cluck of her tongue, eyes on Barack where he sits on the floor, begging for Louis to hook the leash in his hand to the dog’s collar. “Don’t forget poop bags!” Grandpa Maggie reminds him as he clips the leash on and they head out the door.

Soon, Louis discovers that the campground is larger than meets the eye. It is long and thin, running down the edge of what seems to be the entire island north of the shops. There is one road that branches west, between the dunes, but a sign tells Louis that it is the staff campground and he doesn’t explore down it. Instead, Barack and Louis pass camper after camper. He marvels at how many different kinds there are. Some are full size RV’s, over fifty feet long and driven from a lofty seat behind a massive windshield. Other people have small travel trailers with just enough space to sleep and shit. Louis assumes these people don’t live fulltime in their trailer like his grandparents do.

The best part is all the dogs. Nearly every campsite has at least one. Barack gets to meet some of them and Louis watches as they sniff butts and wag their tails.

Louis is surprised by the number of golf carts he passes. Apparently, driving golf carts around large RV parks is a _thing_. He finds it a little tacky and dangerous, seeing as many of the drivers he has seen are openly drinking alcohol or have suspicious Solo cups in hand. He isn’t sure about any laws regarding driving golf carts drunk, but in his opinion it should not be legal.

However, the abundant presence of the golf carts is why he doesn’t turn when he hears an engine approaching behind him. Louis simply steps onto the shoulder, Vans sinking into the sand for a moment, and tugs on Barack’s leash to bring the dog against his leg and off the boardwalk too.

“That’s one of the most beautiful cattle dogs I’ve ever seen,” a voice says languidly. Louis turns and there is the boy he had seen on the dock. He is riding a blue ATV, sitting back in the seat like it’s the most casual thing in the world. He has sunglasses over his eyes, but he reaches to his face to push them atop his capped head when Louis turns. His eyes are alight and intensely green.

Louis tries not to look at the man’s tiny yellow swim trunks and shifts his feet. At least the man has a shirt on now, so Louis isn’t tempted to look at his tattoos too. “Thank you, he’s my grandparents’.”

“What’s his name?” the man asks, stepping off the ATV and switching off the key. He moves to crouch in front of Barack but then looks at Louis. “Is he nice?”

“Yeah, go ahead and pet him. He’ll love it,” Louis tells him. “His name is Barack.”

The other man snorts. “Like...Barack Obama?”

“That’d be the one.”

“That’s amazing.”

Louis laughs a little. “They miss him.”

“Don’t we all,” the man says, then glances around the campground. “Or, well, at least should.”

Louis nods. Barack leans into the man’s touch, happy that someone is scratching his ears.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” the other man says, flicking his gaze up to Louis.

His stomach flips for a moment, just a breath of nerves. “Louis, I’m Louis.”

“Nice to meet you, Louis-I’m-Louis,” Harry says, light in his laugh. “How long are you staying?”

“I’ll be here for around a month,” Louis says, “but my grandparents stay all summer.”

“Wait, did you guys come in earlier? White and black fifth wheel, Dutchman?” Harry asks.

“Uh, right colors. Don’t know about the model,” Louis says. “I’m new to this whole RVing thing.”

“Might remember your grandparents from winter. They’re sweet,” Harry says. He is still petting Barack, who is trying his hardest to climb into Harry’s lap. He shifts his feet, sitting in the sand on the side of the road and Barack climbs atop him. “What brings you with?”

Louis quickly composes the abridged version. “Finished college early, Mom thought it was a good idea to travel.”

Harry nods. “Beach air does wonders for your soul.”

Louis doesn’t know about that, but he is enjoying the oceanside so far. “So do you work here?”

Harry nods, leaning back as Barack tries to lick his face. “Been here two years. Mainly I’m in the marina but sometimes I help with maintenance or work in the camp shop when Zayn takes a day off.”

“You can rent boats here, right?”

“Yup, we’ve got speed boats and waverunners and one for deep sea fishing. Speaking of, I was headed to storage to see if we have the parts to fix one of the engines. Should probably get back to that.” Harry stands, brushing off the sand from his tiny yellow shorts. “I’ll see you around!”

Before Louis can respond, Harry hops back on his ATV and starts the engine, hitting the gas lightly and turning the wheel to give Barack and Louis a safe berth as he rides past. He waves over his shoulders as he carries on down the boardwalk and Louis is left standing with a dog and insanely curious about a boy with tattoos and tiny swim trunks.


	2. Beach Boys

“Gosh darn, our hose connector is leaking.”

Louis nearly jumps, not having realized Grandpa William was even  _ on _ the opposite side of the trailer, let alone coming around the back right behind the spot where Louis has planted himself in a folding chair in the shade with his phone. It’s late morning their second day, his grandparents still getting their trailer settled into the site for their stay.

“Sorry, Lou.” Grandpa William sighs and continues walking, then turns. “You know, they might have these in the camp store. Would you mind running down to look?”

Louis nods and throws his phone in his pocket. Grandpa William digs a ten dollar bill out of his wallet and hands it to Louis. “If it’s more than that, they’re ripping us off.”

“Am I supposed to inform them of that or…?” Louis jokes as he bounds out of camp, headed back towards the entrance. The camp store is attached to the office, so Louis goes in the door for check in and then weaves through the room, through a doorway, and into the small camp store. 

There is a mix of food and equipment in the shop, tiny aisles running across the floor. The back wall is all refrigerators with food and drinks in them, over half various types of alcohol. Below the window is an ice cream freezer, premade popsicles, Magnum’s, and Choco Taco’s all inside. 

“Can I help you find anything?” a man behind the counter asks. Louis turns and sees that he is around Harry’s age, with dark skin and brooding eyes. He is sitting on a stool with one foot against the counter behind the cash register. Louis doubts he actually wants to help him find anything. 

“Think I’ve… spotted what I need,” Louis says and then berates himself for awkwardness. He ducks down one of the three little aisles, unable to fully hide from the cashier (the shelves are only about five feet tall) but hoping for safety nonetheless. Thankfully, it seems Louis might have ducked down the correct aisle. There are RV fuses, power adaptors for the electric boxes, and other RV accessories. He scans the shelf, trying to be on his way quickly, when a bell sounds and voices carry into the store. 

“I swear Niall, if you make that noise one more time I’m going to put my ice cream down your pants.”

“You wouldn’t waste perfectly good ice cream, Liam.”

“Wanna bet?”

A horrendously fabricated laugh reverberates through the shop. Louis understands the ice cream threat. 

“Children, I’m friends with literal children,” a voice says, and Louis recognizes Harry’s slow and clear speech.

Then the cashier speaks. “Were you guys seriously going to get ice cream for lunch?”

There is a pause. “Maybe,” someone says. 

“Then I think you’re  _ all _ children.” 

The other boys all break down in laughter with one “hmph” interjected. There is the noise of the ice cream freezer sliding open and rustling as people pick their treats. 

Louis focuses back on his search and spots a hose connector. He snatches it from the shelf and mistakingly tries to beat the ice cream boys back to the cash register. 

As soon as he steps out of the aisle, Harry sees him. “Hey! Louis, right?”

“Hey Harry.” Louis tries to act normal but he  _ hates _ being around groups of boys. He’s really not used to it, this much testosterone in one place. He is friends with  _ girls _ , it’s so much easier because he isn’t  _ panicking _ . 

“Want to join us for our ice cream lunch break?” he asks and Louis wants to say yes because Harry is cool but everyone else makes him nervous. “This is Niall and Liam, they work on the dock too, and this is Zayn  _ who I have to cover for once a week _ .”

Zayn does not look amused. “Hey, take it up with the big guy. He’s the one who says I can.”

“Don’t pretend you hate it,” Niall tells Harry, “there is air conditioning in here!”

Liam snickers as Harry shoots a glare at Niall. It’s easy to tell it’s all in jest, and Louis feels himself relax a little as the other boys joke.

“So, what do you say?” Harry asks. 

“Um...yeah sure,” Louis says.

Harry immediately strides back to the ice cream case, shoving the glass to the side. “What do you want? You seem like a… hmm... ice cream sandwich kind of person.” Harry glances over his shoulder in time to see Louis’s nod. It’s slow, Louis shocked at Harry’s coincidental guess. “Knew it!” Harry crows, snatching the sandwich from the freezer and skipping back towards the register. Liam sighs and walks past Harry to close the freezer he has left open. 

Harry slaps Louis’s and his ice cream down at the register. “What’ll it be?” he asks Zayn. 

“Six ninety-five,” Zayn says as deadpan as possible. 

Louis tries to reproach as Harry pays for his ice cream but Harry pays no attention. Then Harry moves aside and lets the other two pay, Zayn showing considerably more enthusiasm for them. Harry sticks his tongue out at Zayn who rolls his eyes. 

Then Louis pays for the hose connector and turns towards the other three. 

“Dock, the shitty picnic table outside, or my site?” Harry asks. 

“It’s too hot today for the dock, I want to sit in the shade. I’m already burned,” Niall says, pressing a hand to his forearm to show the redness of his skin. 

“If you wore sunscreen, that probably wouldn’t happen,” Liam says like he has stated this one hundred times. 

“Okay, Dad,” Niall mocks. 

“Someone make a decision and get out of my store,” Zayn says. “And remember that one of you has to cover me after so I can take my lunch break.”

“No can do,” Harry says. 

“I gotcha,” Liam says as they head out the door. 

In the end, they seat themselves at the “shitty little picnic table” outside the shop and Louis learns the table isn’t  _ bad _ , it’s literally  _ shitty _ . 

“Do we have to?” Niall asks. “It’s covered in bird shit.”

“Seagull shit,” Liam says. 

“I don’t think the kind of shit matters so much as the fact that it’s shit,” Louis says. 

There is a pause and then Harry barks like a seal, his laughter bursting from between his lips. He slaps a hand over his mouth, but even without seeing his mouth, Louis can tell from his lively eyes that he is laughing. 

“Shit, I’m dripping,” Liam says, holding up his ice cream. The corner of the wrapper has vanilla ice cream seeping out of it. Liam rips his open and begins eating his mess. 

The rest of them follow suit and it is silent as they all attempt to eat their ice cream before it’s completely liquid. Harry’s Choco Taco crunches loudly as he takes a huge bite, tongue leading the way, and Louis finds himself staring for a moment. 

“Wha?” Harry asks through a mouthful of ice cream and fake taco shell. 

“Nothing, sorry,” Louis says, hastily fastening his eyes on his own ice cream. 

When they’re done, Liam takes all of their wrappers and heads back inside to throw them away and relieve Zayn for is own lunch break. 

“Thanks for the ice cream,” Louis tells Harry.

“No problem,” Harry says, wiping his hands on his shorts. His choice today is a pair of plain black trunks with white palm fronds on the sides. They are only  _ slightly _ longer than the yellow ones. 

Louis begins to depart, patting his pocket to make sure he still has the hose connector. 

“You should come by later,” Niall says, and Louis turns back around. He is just fast enough to catch some kind of look passing between Harry and Niall. “We are having a fire at my site.”

“Oh, uh maybe. Yeah,” Louis says. “Um, what’s your site number?”

“Cabin three, in the employee campground,” Niall says. “Not cool enough to have actually bought a trailer to work here,” he says, pushing Harry’s shoulder in a totally “bro” kind of way. “We get off work at six when the marina closes, so anytime after that.”

“Okay, thanks,” Louis says, trying to inject some emotion into his voice. He hates how flat he gets when he’s nervous. Louis does genuinely appreciate the invite but his voice doesn’t sound like it and he wants Harry, and Niall, to know he isn’t disenchanted with the idea. 

 

When Louis returns to his grandparents campsite, Grandma Maggie is outside at the picnic table. 

“You were gone awhile,” she says, setting down her book. 

Louis hands the hose connector to Grandpa William in his lawn chair, poking at his phone. “Made some friends. I think.”

“Good for you,” Grandma Maggie says, like the amazing mom he knows she was. 

“Might join them for their campfire tonight.” As soon as Louis says it, he knows he will have to go. If he doesn’t, his grandma will never let it rest. She’s like that, will be too happy for him to have made friends to not push him to keep it up. 

And that’s why, after dinner, Louis takes a camp chair and departs the cabin. It’s a short walk to the employee campground and Louis spots the cabins as soon as they emerge around the bend. It’s more shaded here, with a few sand pines between each site or cabin and long beach grass surrounding the dip in the dunes. To  one side, where there are trailers rather than cabins. Louis can hear the ocean and imagines there must be an inlet. 

Without having to look at numbers, Louis guesses which one must be Niall’s. There is a large fire in a metal pit, smoking reaching towards the sky. Around it, people in chairs are silhouetted. Louis recognizes them as he draws closer, Harry’s hat sitting front ways on his head and Niall with a bag of chips in his lap. 

“Hey!” Harry calls when he spots Louis approaching. He scoots his own chair, making room between him and Niall. “Sit, sit, glad you came!” Louis unfolds his chair and settles the legs into the sand before plopping into the seat. 

“Beer?” Liam offers, opening a cooler beside him and pulling out a can in offering. Louis considers. He’s underage but by no means has he not drank before and he assumes other boys his age would be fine with him drinking a couple years underage. He nods and Liam tosses the can. 

Louis makes a noise of uncertainty as it sails over the fire, but then he catches it, much to his surprise. 

“I’d wait to open it,” Niall warns. “Last time Li did that to me, it ‘sploded.”

Louis gingerly puts the beer in his cup holder for later. When he looks back up, Harry’s eyes are watching him. 

And this is how the night goes. Harry pays rapt attention to Louis, keeping him in the loop of the inside jokes flying around the fire, and generally making sure that Louis doesn’t feel left out. 

“It’s wasn’t a Tuesday in July boat ride but it was still something,” Zayn laughs about an encounter with a customer in the camp shop. 

“The worst customer we’ve ever had,” Harry says, “was this middle aged couple who had rented a Winnebago and showed up. The height of their horribleness was when they wanted to rent a speedboat without a reservation and threw an absolute  _ fit _ when we didn’t have one available.”

“It was a Tuesday in July,” Niall clarifies for Louis. 

“And it’s why we like our senior citizen regulars best,” Liam  adds. 

“So much,” Harry says. “Edna and Dirk have been here as long as I have.”

“They’ll probably die here,” Zayn says, taking a drag of  his cigarette and carefully blowing the smoke up and away from any of them. 

“Uh, morbid!” Liam says, pushing at Zayn’s chair to unbalance him. “And rude.”

“Wait, so how long have you guys all been working here?” Louis asks.

Liam looks around, then takes the question when no one else moves to speak first. “I’ve been working at the marina since high school summers, my parents live on the mainland. So… five years? And Zayn’s been here for around...three now, right?” 

Zayn nods. 

“Two for me,” Niall says. “One was just summer during my senior year though.” 

Louis looks to Harry. 

“It’s almost been two I think,” Harry says. “I started just after my high school graduation.” 

Louis realizes with a start that Harry is probably the same age as him then. It’s strange, because Louis can simultaneously imagine Harry being both older and younger. He has an old soul it seems, at the same time he feels a little bit like a mature high schooler. Louis can’t put his finger on Harry’s timelessness, but he suspects it resides within his charm or his earnest interactions with people. 

Harry pulls his phone out of his pocket as it chimes, quickly answering a text. “Sorry, it’s my sister,” he says, like any of them care he is texting. 

“I have sisters too,” Louis says. “A lot of sisters actually.” 

“I have just the one,” Harry says as he finishes typing and puts his phone back in his pocket. On the other side of the fire, Niall, Liam, and Zayn have lapsed into their own conversation.

“What’s her name?” Louis asks.

“Gemma. She’s overseas, so she just woke up. Time zones are hard.” 

Louis thinks about how despite hundreds of miles, he is still in the same time zone as his family and is thankful. 

“So, how many sisters do you have?” 

“Five,” Louis says, “and one brother.” 

Harry whistles. “That’s a lot of siblings.” 

“Tell me about it,” Louis says. “But I miss them, despite the mayhem.” He laughs. 

“Are you the oldest?” Harry asks. 

Louis is a little shocked. “Yeah, how’d you know?” 

Harry shrugs. “It makes sense.” 

Louis doesn’t think it’s supposed to be an insult or a compliment. It’s just a comment that  _ is.  _

“What about you?” Louis asks. 

“I’m younger,” Harry says. “Didn’t you know?” 

“So, your parents are empty nesters,” Louis says. 

“Well, just my mom,” Harry says, like an admittance. 

“It’s okay,” Louis says, “my mom is single too. Or, well, was. She isn’t remarried but she’s seeing someone now. Anyways, I know the single parent life.”

Harry nods, a slow bob of his head. “Divorced or…?”

“Twice,” Louis says. “First guy was my dad, but I haven’t seen him in years. Second was everyone else’s dad, ‘cept the youngest twins.”

“More than one set of twins?” Harry asks, incredulous. 

Louis smiles. “Yeah, back-to-back as well. It was wild. Thought the doctor was pulling our legs when he said we were getting  _ two _ more.”

Harry laughs, and the conversation eases even more. As more stars come out, everyone relaxes further into their chairs until the other three announce they are headed to bed. Harry rises when they do, and Louis follows suit. 

“Thanks for inviting me to hang,” Louis says, looking at each of them but especially Harry. 

“Of course,” Harry says. “Can I have your number? For the next time?”

A weird feeling blossoms behind Louis’s ribs at the mention of “next time” but he opens his messages and hands his phone to Harry. He is a quick typer and shoots a message to himself. In Harry’s back pocket, a small ring sounds. 

The other three have disappeared Louis notices with a start, all wandered into their homes. It’s just him and Harry by the dying fire. Louis folds his chair and puts the strap over his shoulder. 

“Well, goodnight,” Louis says, shuffling his feet as he readies to turn and head back into the campground. 

Harry surprises him by swooping forwards with his arms open and giving Louis a quick, but tight, hug. “Goodnight.”

Louis returns it just as Harry releases him. Then Harry turns to the fire and throws sand on the flames. Louis watches for just a moment before walking away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment or kudos if you're enjoying the story, it's literally my life source.


	3. Stars and Ocean Spray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter stage left: All my favorite moments in Greek myth from the course I took my last semester of college

Louis likes to pretend he isn’t the most sentimental human that’s ever walked the earth, but with so many younger siblings it’s hard sometimes. He smiles down at his phone where a picture of Lottie handing Cheerios to the twins has graced his screen. Even if being home means a small mountain of responsibility, he already misses them. 

Louis doesn’t realize an ATV has stopped on the boardwalk along their campsite until Grandma Maggie touches his shoulder. “Louis, the man is looking for you.” His head snaps up and there is Harry, straddling his blue ATV, his hair tucked under a white baseball cap. Louis hurries over, a smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Hey,” he greets with a little sunshine. 

“Louis,” Harry says, and it feels like Harry wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, talking to anyone else. “What are you doing tonight?”

Louis glances towards his campsite, where his grandparents are sitting together, chatting while Grandpa William does the crossword. “This,” he says dryly. 

When Louis turns back, Harry is smiling like a child discovering a secret stash of sweets. “Would you want to go on an adventure with me?” Harry shifts on the ATV seat as he says it, his little green swim trunks riding up his slim thighs. 

Louis doesn’t give it a second thought. “Of course.”

 

Later in the afternoon, Louis leaves the trailer to spot a distinct pair of shorts and peach sized bum leaning over the water hook up at the next site. He stops on the bottom step before his feet hit the wooden deck of the campsite where the picnic table resides, then he continues. 

“C’mere,” he tells Barack, who is hooked to the trailer with a long leash. He essentially has free range of the campsite, but can’t reach the road. However, when the sun reaches a spot where the site has no shade, they move him inside. Barack trots to Louis, eyeing the leash in his hand and vibrates with excitement as Louis switches from the tie out to the walking leash. 

They head for the beach, where Louis knows Barack will enjoy the shallows. Harry turns, perhaps hearing the jingle of the tags on Barack’s collar or just some sixth sense for campers passing by. Whatever the case, Louis hears his name and Harry is grinning and waving from his spot fixing the water hook up. Louis waves back as Barack pulls him down the beach and Harry laughs. 

In the shallows, Louis tosses a tennis ball into a dozen feet out and Barack runs through the water to retrieve it. Although cattle dogs aren’t normally water dogs, Louis supposes the heat makes every dog a water dog. He watches as Barack takes to it like a lab, paddling just a few strokes before the water is shallow enough for him to run back to Louis and beg for another throw.

When Barack tires, Louis returns to his Adidas sandals on the sand behind them, slipping his feet in wet and sandy, and they head back up the beach. Barack dries in the sun, panting and happy. They see Harry, still working on the neighbor’s water hook up. A man, probably the site resident, stands beside him. They’re chatting, Harry making an impressive amount of small talk despite the fact that he is actively elbow deep in the ground unscrewing something in the depths of the plumbing. He doesn’t see Louis this time, but Louis listens for a moment as Harry asks about the man’s grandchildren.

 

Louis meets Harry on the dock after sunset, long after the marina is supposed to be closed. 

“Are you allowed to be out here still?” Louis asks instead of greeting. “I can’t be the reason you get fired.”

“It’s fine,” Harry assures him, standing from where he is untying a jet ski to hug Louis in greeting. It takes Louis by surprise, being just the second time Harry has decided to hug him, but it is still appreciated. “The owner’s home is way at the other end of the property, so he’ll never know.”

“And what exactly is it that he won’t know about?” Louis asks. He has a vague idea, considering Harry had texted him to say wear swim trunks but doesn’t know the details. 

“This,” Harry says, motioning to the jet ski he has now untied from the dock. “I have somewhere I want to show you.”

Louis is apprehensive about what he is seeing but loves what he is hearing, so he gulps and ignores the weird bubble in his chest. “Do you have a life jacket I can wear?” He asks, eyeing the one Harry has already adorned. 

Harry jogs down the pier to a large deck box. His wrist jingles with a set of keys attached to a spiraled, stretchy bracelet which Harry pulls off. It takes him a moment to find the correct key amongst the mess but then he unlocks the deck box and throws the lid open. Harry digs through it for just a moment before pulling a blue life jacket from amongst its peers. He closes it and comes back to Louis’s side. 

“See if this one is the right size.” Louis tries it and barely has to adjust the straps to buckle it across his chest and stomach. He looks at Harry, surprised. 

“Hey, two years makes a person really good at guessing life jacket sizes. If I don’t give someone the correct size, I am personally liable!” It’s very mock serious, but through the joking tone Louis also knows Harry takes his job seriously. He’s seen how Harry acts with the older campers, knows he knows all their names if they stay for long.

“Okay, so how does this work?” Louis says, motioning to the jet ski. 

“Never been on one?” Harry asks. Louis shakes his head. “I’ll be driving, but I’ll need you to take control until we are out of the marina. Normally, I push people out from the water since I can stand and we don’t want a wake to knock the boats together.”

Louis can’t imagine it will be easy to climb onto the jet ski in the wavy ocean without tipping it but Harry  _ is _ the expert here, or as close as they are going to get to an expert. Harry jumps into the water, his own life vest changing from royal blue to navy as it gets wet. He almost loses his telltale hat in the fall, but slams a hand up to pin it to his head. With the water up to his chest, he motions for Louis to board the jet ski. 

“Oh shit,” Louis says as it wobbles beneath him. He doesn’t know if being slow or quick is better, but he really just wants his center of gravity to be still so he whips his body around to sit as quickly as possible behind the handlebars. The entire ski rocks from the movement, but doesn’t tip. 

“It’s a two person so it’ll be hard to tip on your own,” Harry says like he can read Louis’s mind. “Can you reach the dock with your foot? To push off?”

Louis tries, but his legs are too short. He turns to give Harry a  _ look _ . “Okay, just I can do that then.” He laughs as he grabs the back of the jet ski pulling it slowly through the water. It begins to build momentum and the going is quick. Each time Louis glances back though, the water has gained several inches on Harry. Soon, it is touching the bill of his cap and his chin. 

“Just get on now, we’ll float out won’t we?”

“If you want to wait twenty minutes,” Harry tells him. “This is way quicker.”

“But not easier for you to get on.” Harry doesn’t seem to have heard Louis over the rush of the waves. 

Once they are significantly far from the dock and bobbing boats, Harry warns Louis he is coming up. 

“Just lean to the opposite side,” Harry says as he paddles to Louis’s right. “And you’ll need to scoot back so I can fit in front of you.”

Louis moves back on the seat, arguably too far, and leans away from Harry as he grips the edge of the platform for their feet. 

“One, two,...three!” Harry hefts his torso out of the water, droplets raining down from his vest. Louis yipes as the cold water hits his foot. The entire jet ski tries to tip towards Harry and Louis leans further. Harry says something but Louis’s misses it and then a sodden body is on the seat in front of him but Louis is still leaning dangerously far to the side. As the jet ski rocks from Harry’s movement, it begins to tip the  _ other _ way and Louis hurries to right himself. A large hand grabs his shoulder and pulls him back to sit on the seat he hadn’t realized his butt had  _ left _ . 

“Well shit,” Louis says, slightly out of breath. “Thanks.”

“Figured you didn’t want to go in head first,” Harry teases. “Now hold on, I’m gonna start the engine.” 

Louis had rather forgotten there was more to this adventure, and moves quickly to grab Harry around the waist, knitting his fingers through the loops for the life vest’s buckles. The jet ski rumbles beneath them as it comes to life, and Harry leans over the handlebars. Louis doesn’t think this is a good sign. 

“You aren’t an adrenaline junkie or something, right?” he asks, leaning close to Harry’s ear to make sure he is heard over the waves and the engine. 

“Nope, just like watersports,” Harry laughs as he hits the throttle. They don’t take off in a zero to sixty manner, but Louis is forced back in the seat and definitely understands why he is holding on. The wind whips through his hair and he wonders how the hell Harry’s hat is staying on. At night like this, there is nothing to guide them but the moonlight, and Louis hopes Harry knows what he is doing. 

They head south down the coast, past a break through the thin islands to the intercoastal, and on to the next island. It takes all of ten minutes. 

Harry beaches the jet ski on the sand of an inlet. The water is relatively calm here, just gently running it’s fingers up and down the sand nearest the water’s edge. Louis waits on the back of the jet ski as Harry pops a compartment open on the front and removes a large beach blanket. 

“C’mon,” he says and Louis hops off the jet ski, splashing in the shallows as he heads up the beach with Harry. 

“Where are we going?”

“My favorite spot,” Harry says, turning and waiting for Louis to catch up. Side-by-side, they follow a small foot trail through the trees. Harry is sure footed, and obviously knows this path. Louis watches where Harry steps, hoping this means he won’t set his bare foot on any branches. 

Still within earshot of the waves, the trail turns and they reach another coast, the edge of the calm water leading to the intercoastal. The pines give way to the starry sky and Harry flings the blanket out from his arms and spreads it across the sand. Louis watches as he unclips the buckles on his life preserver and tosses it beside the blanket. 

“Here we are,” Harry says, spreading his hands. He then claps them together. “But this isn't the best part yet. I am  _ so  _ happy it’s a clear night.”

Louis unbuckles his life vest too. Unlike Harry, he is wearing a shirt underneath, gently damp from the ocean spray on the jet ski. They move to the blanket at the same time and Harry lies on his back. Louis follows suit. 

“From here, the stars are so clear and it’s so serene,” Harry says to the sky. “I’ve seen Saturn so many times, and no one comes by, it’s a preserve so cars can’t even come on this island.”

Louis doesn’t know how to participate in this conversation, but he is fine with just listening. He could listen to Harry forever he thinks. He loves the slow way he talks, like there is no hurrying in the world. 

“Do you know the stars?” Harry asks.

Louis turns to look at Harry instead of the sky. “No, but I want to.”

“Well, that bright one is Sirius A,” Harry says, pointing to one of the most vibrant in the sky. “But it’s easily confused with that one,” Harry says, moving his arm so his hand is suspended above Louis, pointing to another bright speck. “That’s the international space station.”

Louis laughs. “That’s where they sometimes Skype from?”

Harry makes a noise of affirmation. “What’s your astrological sign?” Harry asks. 

“I don’t know. I probably should though,” Louis admits. He glances away from the sky again to catch the movement of Harry’s other hand, which twitches on the blanket between them, like an aborted motion. 

“When’s your birthday?”

“December twenty fourth.”

A beat. “Are you pulling my leg?”

“Nope, it really is Christmas Eve.” Louis tries to keep the disdain out of his voice, it’s silly to be upset over his birth date.

“That’s gotta suck.” Louis is surprised. Everyone thinks a Christmas Eve birthday has to be cool, the very best. 

“Yeah it--it really does.” It means your entire day is overshadowed by The Holiday, gifts are even more sparse than everyone else’s birthday in the family, and Louis usually has to participate in a family activity that means babysitting and responsibility even on the one day a year he wishes he didn’t have the burden of being a big brother. 

“But that means you’re a Capricorn, which we sadly cannot see at this time of year.” Harry sounds genuinely disappointed. 

“What’s yours? Can we see that one right now?” Louis asks.

“I’m an Aquarius. I’ve only ever spotted it in October. BUT we can see Orion’s Belt right now and that’s my favorite constellation.”

“Where?” Louis asks, eager.

“Those three stars that are pretty bright? And they’re all lined up?” Harry coaxes, pointing. 

“To the left?” Louis asks, searching. 

“No, there,” Harry tries, somehow thinking wiggling his finger makes it easier to spot. 

Louis looks for a moment, then: “I got nothing.”

“Look,” Harry says, sitting up and scooting towards Louis. He also sits up. Harry siddles behind Louis’s shoulder and stretches his arm past Louis’s face. His other hand rests on Louis’s other shoulder, on the blade, to keep him steady. Louis feels the bubble in his chest. “Just there, those three stars?” Louis cranes so his eyeline is even mirroring Harry’s more closely. He looks where Harry’s fingers touch the sky. 

“That’s Orion.”

“And what did Orion do?” Louis asks. 

“He was a great hunter of Greek myth,” Harry begins, “but also was a rapist who was made blind and had a shitty time for it.”

“Good,” Louis says. Harry laughs. 

“Isn’t that all Greek myth?” Harry says rhetorically. “The guy is actually a rapist and maybe actually repents for his actions.”

Louis doesn’t actually know. He is lucky if he can name the main Greek gods. Off the top of his head, all he knows is Apollo and Zeus and Artemis. 

“I take it you like Greek myth.”

“Sort of.” Louis waits for more. “I think parts are beautiful. I love Hephaestus. I love that Achilles and Patroclus had their ashes mixed after death. I love that the minotaur was named Asterion.”

“Asterion?” Louis asks. 

“It means ‘Ruler of the Stars,’” Harry says and Louis turns to look over his shoulder at Harry, who is still close enough they are whispering, to see the joy he can hear in his voice. 

“But wasn’t the minotaur a bad guy? Like a monster?” This is what Louis knows from popular media. Doesn’t the bad witch in  _ The Chronicles of Narnia  _ movie have Minotaurs on her side? 

Harry shrugs and Louis can feel his chest brush his back. “Makes you think. How did a monster get a beautiful name like that?”

Louis doesn’t know, but looks back up because like the stars hold the answers. 

 

Later, the moths and midnight bird calls find them lying side-by-side again, shoulders brushing. They’ve divulged into personal conversation, and Harry is much more than Louis ever imagined. 

“Wait, so...you graduate high school--”

“Yup.”

“And then move to Florida on a whim--”

“Yeah.”

“And happen to land a job here and buy a trailer and have stayed for two years?”

“Exactly.”

Silence lapses for a moment. 

“Do you ever plan anything?”

“Not especially. Things have always worked out. Life doesn’t take too much thought, life takes care of itself.”

Louis wants to say it’s a narrow view, an unaccomodating view, but he also can’t help but see the evidence which led Harry to it. “So, it’s just fate?”

“It’s written in the stars.” 

Louis almost laughs it’s so cheesy. Harry knows it too. “That’s what my grandma used to tell me.” A beat. “She was the one who taught me about astronomy. Had a PhD and everything, but I can’t remember all she told me anymore.”

Louis has a sinking feeling that she is dead and suddenly feels guilty he is here, on a month long trip with his own grandparents. 

Harry clears his throat loudly. “So, what is your plan? What are you doing?”

Louis splutters. “Well,  _ that’s  _ a broad question.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry concedes. “Well, what did you do after high school? You’re older, right? Older than me?”

“No, um, I didn’t graduate college in four years,” Louis mumbles. 

Harry sits up. “Wait, did you finish a whole year early? It can’t be more than a year, that’s impossible, right? So, you’re 20?”

Louis looks away. “I didn’t… graduate.”

Harry waits but it’s not an expectant silence. It’s calm, and Louis can hear the waves on the beach. 

“I didn’t flunk out if that’s what you’re thinking,” Louis says, still not looking. “I just… didn’t want to be there anymore. Hated the whole institution of it.”

“What were you studying?” Harry asks. 

“Business.”

“Well there’s your problem.” Louis laughs despite himself, and Harry chuckles at his own quick wit. 

“So, do you know what you’re doing now?” Harry asks. 

“Of course,” Louis says. “I am stargazing with you.”

 

Midnight has just revealed herself to them when they return to the jet ski. Harry has to be up early in the morning for the marina, and Louis figures his grandparents are worried, so they’re sadly heading back to the marina. 

“You ready for full speed?” Harry asks as he pushes the jet ski off the beach and into the shallows. 

Louis bawks. “Full speed wasn’t the way here?”

“Nah,” Harry says, clipping on his life vest. “We were going maybe... twenty? Max speed is fifty.”

“Nope,” Louis says after climbing on but refusing to fasten his hands around Harry’s waist. “Absolutely not consenting to top speed.”

“What about….thirty five?” Harry asks. Louis feels more sure Harry is secretly an adrenaline junkie. 

“Thirty,” Louis says with finality. Harry turns just far enough as Louis slips his arms around his waist, white knuckle gripping the loops on the life preserver, to see Harry smile. 

They putz out of the shallows before Harry jokingly hits the gas like he is going to floor it. Louis clings to Harry, pulling their bodies flush together. 

“Dick,” he tells Harry as they travel maybe ten feet before stopping. 

Harry is shaking with a little laugh. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. But don’t worry, we’ll ease into it.”

As promised, Harry slowly increases their speed. It’s simultaneously a rougher and smoother ride the faster they go. They can skip over the waves at a higher speed, the kind which would toss them side-to-side when the nose of the jet ski is deeper in the water. However, having the nose elevated makes them skip like a stone, rhythmically bumping against the surface of the ocean. 

Louis holds on tight and tries to not get a bruise on his ass from the bumping. It reminds him of high school, when his family had gone to a southern themed restaurant and insisted that he ride the mechanical bull in the corner. However, it’s easier to ride the jet ski; he has an entire body to cling to rather than just one hand gripping a handle. He ends up completely wrapping his arms around Harry, face pressed into his shoulder blade. Harry makes tiny whoops and giggles when they hit big waves or when he weaves the jet ski side-to-side, like he  _ wants _ to throw them off. Louis might skateboard sometimes, but tricks in the ocean are a whole nother level he didn’t know he didn’t want to breach until he was here. 

The marina is a lit island in the water, first appearing like a large star on the horizon and steadily growing bigger. There are just a few lights fastened to high posts, so Harry slows considerably ahead of time to properly navigate to the dock. And that’s when Louis realizes that on the ride back, he’s gotten half hard. 

Louis tries not to make any noises to go along with his horror and rapidly scoots back, feigning the need to stretch his arms after gripping so tightly. Harry takes a half glance back to check on Louis after he moves, but is more focused on not drifting into the deep sea fishing boat on the end of the dock (Louis is thankful). 

When they are closer to the jet ski’s slip, Harry kills the engine and jumps off with a huge splash. Louis waits, holding the handle bars straight, as Harry guides it into the slip, then pulls himself onto the dock to tie it off. Louis had missed it on the way out when Harry had boarded the jet ski, but now in the late moonlight with his skin glistening, Louis witnesses Harry’s arms strain, muscles briefly bulging. Then he hikes his leg onto the dock with ease (which to be fair...he does do this everyday) and Louis looks away as, per usual, Harry’s tiny shorts ride up. 

Harry offers a hand to help Louis disembark from the jet ski. It is significantly easier to step off the rocking vessel with something to hold, but once he’s on the dock, Louis takes his hand back immediately.  

“Thank you for...showing me,” Louis says after a moment. 

“Of course,” Harry replies. Louis feels a few ocean droplets as Harry removes his hat, pushes his wet hair back from his face, and then replaces it. “I’d offer you an ATV ride back but… it’s a little cold to be wet at this point in the night,” Harry says, holding out his arms to display his current state. 

Louis thinks about straddling the ATV behind Harry, much like the jet ski. A guilty feeling tries to make its way to his face and he fights it down. “I’ll walk, but thanks. I like the beach at night.”

Harry nods, then turns to pop open the compartment on the front of the jet ski and takes out the blanket. “Take this, for the wind.” Harry hands it Louis. 

Louis takes it even as he says, “What about you?”

“I’ll be home in the blink of an eye,” Harry says, unbuckling his life jacket and putting it in the deck box. He holds a hand out for Louis’s and he hurriedly takes it off, a difficult task while holding a blanket. “And I always shower before bed so I’ll warm up quick.”

Louis nods and tries very hard to not think about Harry in the shower. Instead, he tosses the blanket around his shoulders and holds the edges against his chest. “Thank you.”

Harry smiles, a big beaming grin that lights up the night. Louis feels like the stars don’t shine as brightly in this moment. “Yeah, of course.”

They’ve walked to the end of the dock now, where Harry’s ATV sits. Harry crouches and grabs the keys from the sand from behind his back tire and Louis almost rolls his eyes at the stupidity of the hiding spot. 

“Seriously?” he asks. 

Harry throws a leg over the ATV and turns to Louis. It’s the first time Louis has realized Harry doesn’t wear a helmet when he rides it and a swoop of nerves take over his stomach. 

“You think any of these seniors are going to steal an ATV?”

It’s a decent point, which Louis is choosing to ignore. 

“Where’s your helmet?”

“Don’t have one,” Harry says, then turns the key so the engine rumbles to life. He saluates Louis, who doesn’t know what to make of the goodbye, smiles hugely to diminish the stars again, and gently hits the gas to ease onto the boardwalk and away. 

Louis isn’t entirely sure it wasn’t all a dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My knowledge and love for Asterion comes from David Elliott's book "Bull." I'd _highly_ recommend it, and also supporting David Elliott is like my main goal in life cause I took a writing class with him and he's genuinely the nicest human and also the most socially educated, elderly, white man I have ever encountered.


	4. Do You Have Plans Tonight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter title is from Lost in Japan.

The next morning is a daze to Louis. He’s exhausted and sleeps in well past the sun. He wakes when Grandma Maggie comes into the back room, the door clicking shut behind her. 

“Lou, wake up,” she croons. “I have coffee.”

Louis makes a groaning noise as he is pulled from a strange dream that leaves his eyes heavy and his brain racing, but he immediately can’t recall what it is about. He looks at Grandma Maggie, then scales down the ladder and accepts the cup of coffee from her. 

“I’d recommend staying inside with that,” she says. “It’s hot as blazes on the beach.” Louis nods and follows her into the kitchen, where he sits at the dinette with his phone while she heads back out the door. 

The exhaustion lasts through the rest of the day. After lunch, he goes with Grandma Maggie to a grocery store on the mainland. They walk the aisles quietly together, picking cereal and fruits and chicken for dinner. 

“You were out late last night,” she says. The thing about Grandma Maggie is that she is the nicest human Louis knows. She doesn’t mean it to be implicating or prying, she is purely making conversation. Louis can’t find a trace of an ulterior motive, no suspicion he was doing something “bad” or that he had broken some unsaid curfew. 

“Yeah, Harry and I explored a nearby island,” Louis tells her. 

Grandma Maggie nods. “He seems like a nice kid. If you ever want to have him for dinner just let me know.” Louis almost laughs, because of course his grandmother is defaulting to feeding people. She had, after all, been a homemaker her entire life. He supposes it’s a habit that’s hard to shake, if she even wants to. 

They’re silent for a time, walking from one end of the aisle down to where the bread is. 

“You prefer wheat, right?” Grandma Maggie asks, already reaching for the brand Louis’s mother buys at home. 

When they return to the campsite, they put away the groceries and Louis lays a towel on the beach behind their site to tan and nap. He accidentally sleeps for several hours and wakes to the smell of Grandpa William grilling the chicken. Despite the nap, Louis finds himself tired while sitting around the fire and ends up returning to his bunk by nine, feeling more elderly than his grandparents. 

 

Louis doesn’t remember the moment his life became a cheesy rom com, but he suddenly sure it is as pebbles tick against the window of the trailer. 

He rolls out of the bed, toes barely brushing the ground as he drops from the bunk without using the ladder, and peeks out the little pane of glass in his back room.

“Harry?” he asks the darkness hesitantly. He can make out the shape of the neighbor’s RV, light glinting off the waxed roof. The palm trees near the boardwalk rustle in a light beach breeze, blowing right off the water. 

Suddenly, another tiny pebble hits the window above Louis’s head. 

“Harry!” he snaps. He is answered by a giggle. 

Louis runs for the door into the living space, slipping into a creeping silence as he grabs the handle. Paying no mind to his bare feet and rumpled shirt and shorts, he tiptoes through the kitchen and out the door of the trailer. As it clicks shut behind him, he hears the thunk of Barack jumping off his grandparent’s bed and prays that he doesn’t bark. 

Louis turns, ready to whisper Harry’s name into the night, but Harry has already materialized behind him. Louis nearly shouts in surprise, but Harry grabs his arms, keeping him from slipping off the metal trailer steps and also calming his heart. 

“Sorry,” Harry whispers, stepping back to give Louis room to step to the ground. “Guess I was  _ too _ quiet.” He sounds smug about it, in that adorably infuriating way that Harry acts, like driving the jet ski too fast. 

“What are you doing here?” Louis asks, glancing over his shoulder at the trailer and then moving further away, towards their picnic table. The coals from their fire still glow subtly, just an hour or so having passed since his grandparents let the flames die and headed to bed. 

“Oh, do you want me to…?” Harry asks, motioning over his shoulder. 

Louis understands immediately. “Oh no, god no, you don’t have to leave!” he clarifies. “Just wondering if you had a reason to be at my campsite at,” Louis checks his non existent watch, “ass crack of the night.”

Harry barks a laugh, then slaps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”

Louis smiles without trying. 

“Gosh,” Harry says, “you’re just so--” 

Louis waits, but Harry seems to have completely ceased the sentence. Louis opens his mouth to speak, to say anything to fill the silence when more words burst from behind Harry’s lips. 

“I just, I wanted to--” and Harry takes a half step closer to Louis, a test for unease, before he finishes the step and lands directly in front of Louis. They are so close Louis can make out the freckle on Harry’s jowl and the way his lips are slightly chapped from years in the beach wind. And then those lips are on his. 

Harry pauses as soon as their lips touch, making sure. Louis freezes, so surprised his brain has gone silent, like a television signal interrupted. Just colorful bars and shrill nose,  _ Connection Lost _ .

Then Harry’s encompassing, warm hands land on Louis’s waist and he springs back into himself. Louis responds to the kiss, moving his lips to slot more comfortably with Harry’s and raising his own hands from their dead hang at his sides. Unsure what to do with them, he puts them on Harry’s own arms, a signal of “yes, please leave these on me.” Louis hopes it’s a clear message. 

Harry treats the kiss like they have all the time in the world, languid movements and slow hands. Louis feels like he is stealing time, is counting the seconds until one of his grandparents pops their head out of the trailer and catches them in the act. They only have until one of his grandparents goes to the bathroom, or gets a glass of water. It would only take a glance out the window to spot them, standing in the middle of the campsite and backlit by the moonlight off the ocean. 

Louis pulls away. Harry seems to leap backwards. 

“I’m sorry, it was too--” He starts to say, eyes falling to his feet, bare on the decking. 

“No, no,” Louis assures, “it’s just… my grandparents are right there.” He motions vaguely behind him to the trailer, not looking himself so he doesn’t have to take his eyes off of Harry. “Do you... know somewhere else?” 

As soon as Louis says it, he wants to take it back. He wishes he had a rope, to reel the words back in and say it differently. He feels like he just suggested they further this, and although he likes Harry--likes Harry a  _ lot _ \--he is not trying to imply taking this up a level. He simply wants Harry’s lips back on his, wants to have Harry’s bright hands back on his body, lighting him up. 

Harry nods. “Yeah, let’s…” he motions to the boardwalk and they set off together. Louis does not know where they are going, but he would follow Harry just about anywhere in this moment. Since he pulled away however, a wall has sprung up between them and Louis wants to tear it down. He hurries to pace himself beside Harry and brushes their hands together, a silent question. When Louis looks up, Harry’s green eyes are practically glowing and set on him. He feels Harry slip their fingers together, and Louis can’t help the smile that thins his eyes. He glances away, to his feet, and then ahead. 

“Are those… pink lights?”

Harry chuckles beside Louis and his head tightens where his fingers are laced between Louis’s own. “Yeah, that’s my trailer.”

They pass a small, familiar sign along the boardwalk, announcing they are entering the staff campground. When they are closer to Harry’s trailer, Louis sees that rainbow lights are wrapped around the arms supporting the awning propped away from a small silver Airstream. It has infinite charm, and is so very  _ Harry _ . 

“You surf?” Louis asks, spotting the long, waxed board propped against the nose of the trailer, obscuring part of one window. 

“Liam was supposed to teach me,” Harry says as he digs a key out of his pocket. Louis notices he uses the hand not holding Louis’s despite the pocket being his left and Louis is holding Harry’s left hand.  “But we haven’t had time since I got the board. And the waves haven’t been that great yet this year.” Now, Harry drops Louis’s hand to unlock the trailer and then holds the door open for him. 

Louis steps inside and is surprised to see almost everything is finished with wood, down to the front of the fridge. His mind flashes to the basement of  _ That 70’s Show _ . “This is like a time capsule.”

“From ‘82, had to do a lot of work on it but she’s home,” Harry says. He is on the steps behind Louis, trying to come inside, so Louis hurriedly sits on the sofa directly across from the door. Harry enters, closes the door behind him, and trips over his own feet on his way to the seat beside Louis. 

Immediately, they both lean forwards to resume the kiss and with a little more velocity they surely would have knocked teeth. As it is, they both dive in with a hunger. Harry’s hands quickly land back on Louis’s waist and he wants to melt. His own find themselves on Harry’s shoulders and neck, moving with insecurity until Louis cups Harry’s jaw in his palms. Harry breaks the contact between their lips to  _ nuzzle _ into Louis’s hands, eyes gently closed. Louis feels a tiny quiver run through Harry’s body. 

Unable to resist, he strokes Harry’s cheek with his thumb and presses a light kiss to his forehead. Harry’s eyes flash open, taking Louis’s breath away, and then Harry’s pressing his lips back to Louis’s. With some coaxing and ambiguous signals, Harry guides Louis onto his lap, straddling Harry’s thin waist while Louis’s hands sit on Harry’s wider shoulders. Louis can feel his heart leaping into his throat and pounding against his ribs, a combo that has him nearly breathless. Their lips are glued together, Louis sucking on Harry’s thick bottom one, imagining how pink it is. Harry makes a tiny noise in his throat and Louis pauses. Harry takes the opportunity to disconnect their lips and latch his to Louis’s throat, just below his jaw where his pulse is rocketing against his vein. He worries that Harry will feel it, realize that Louis is nearly panicking despite the joy gathering like a bubble behind his sternum. 

With his head tipped back, making room for Harry’s curls, Hary begins sucking a bruise into Louis’s skin, Louis opens his eyes and looks at the metal ceiling of Harry’s trailer. He takes stock of the feelings, of the graze of Harry’s teeth for just a moment before it’s just lips on his skin again, of his hands gripping onto the fabric of Harry’s shirt over his shoulders, of their legs pressed together where Louis’s knees are bracketing Harry’s thighs. And that’s when Louis realizes he is getting hard. 

_ No--nope, nope, nope.  _ Louis pushes on Harry’s shoulders, his lips leaving Louis’s skin with a small noise. “I’m--I’m sorry, I just--” and Louis doesn’t even register his own movements as he dismounts from Harry’s lap, turning quickly because he is pretty sure his shorts are tented, and fumbling for the doorknob. “It’s nothing you did,” he apologizes quickly, too scared to turn and see Harry’s face in this moment. “Don’t--you’re fine. It’s me--I’m really sorry. I gotta--” and then the door is open and Louis rushes down the steps, closing it behind him without looking at Harry and hurrying down the boardwalk.

Louis half listens for Harry’s door opening behind him, hoping Harry won’t pursue. After stumbling down the boardwalk, he turns and walks away from the ocean, into the dunes. He is still barefoot as he slips along the side of one, long grass tickling his knees, and practically falls to sit on the slope. He feels stupid, he feels panicked, he feels lost. He hates when a small sob creeps up his throat, and he pulls his knees to his chest to bury his face against them for a moment. 

Through his stupid flood of feelings, Louis supposes he should have known stuffing his gay feelings into the back of his mind for “later” when he was thirteen would catch up with him. Granted, at that age with puberty, school, and the horrors of gym locker rooms, he definitely didn’t want to think about the fact that he liked boys. And he hadn’t for almost seven years. 

_ You’re gay _ he tells himself. He needs to figure this out now before he ruins whatever is happening with Harry and him. He is  _ determined _ to figure this out before he ruins it.  _ You’re gay _ . Louis tries to make himself take a deep breath and it kind of works. The ocean air clears his head and he lifts his salty cheeks to the salty breeze for the tears to dry.  _ You’re gay and you like a boy named Harry. _ It’s terrifying. It makes Louis stomach flip over and over so he feels like it’s floating in his body. His shoulders are drawn towards his ears, tight with nerves, and he realizes he is clenching his muscles. He takes another ocean breath and tells himself to relax. He doesn’t. 

When the land behind the dunes begins to glow with the sunrise, Louis finally forces himself to stand. Sand falls from his skin and his shorts as he slides down the dune back to the boardwalk. He’s just five sites away from his and tries to quietly pad home. He slips through the door and into the half bath at his end of the trailer to hike his knee up and rinse a sandy foot in the sink and then the other. Then he peels off his pajamas, also sandy, and climbs back into his bunk in just his boxers to attempt a few hours of sleep. 

 


	5. The Tide

Until he gets his shit sorted out, Louis has decided to more or less avoid Harry. Despite his personal pep talk and mini cry-fest on the dune, he still feels like he’s going to shake apart anytime he thinks too much about liking a boy. And the thing is, Louis knows Harry isn’t the first man he has had a crush on, but he’d always talked himself out of the feelings before. With Landon, he’d told himself he was just jealous of how muscular the high school football player was. And with James he’d convinced himself he was jealous of his beautiful singing voice and acting abilities in the theater department’s performances. But when he’s in the middle of kissing a boy and he’s kissing Louis back just as earnestly, it’s a little hard to deny that there are romantic feelings at play. The sad truth is, Louis has never not had a scapegoat feeling before. 

So Louis avoids Harry for a bit. He feels bad, knows the average human (despite his rushed words as he escaped out the door) would blame themselves, would think they had done something wrong. Harry is so sweet, Louis feels sure he is blaming himself for Louis’s quick departure. However, if Louis needs a minute, he’s damn well decided he will take a minute because coming to terms with being gay is  _ fucking _ hard. 

“What happened to your friend? That nice Harry boy?” Grandma Maggie asks after two days of Louis moping around the campground. 

“Grandma, do you know what you just said?”

“I didn’t mean he’s hairy,” she chides. “You knew what I meant.”

Louis smiles despite himself. “Just sounded funny is all.”

They sit in silence for just a moment, Grandma Maggie slowly stirring sugar into her coffee. “So what happened to him?”

“He’s busy,” Louis tells her. “He works here after all.”

Grandma Maggie purses her lips at her coffee. “Didn’t seem busy when I saw him chatting in the camp store this morning.”

Louis sighs. Grandma Maggie isn’t the meddling type, but she is definitely the investigative type. 

She continues. “So I invited him to have dinner with us.”

Louis takes back everything he’s ever said about Grandma Maggie. “Grandma!”

“He’s a nice boy and you should have friends here!”

Louis sighs and keeps himself from stomping to his room like an insolent teenager. Or worse, crying. He holds himself together, checks the lockscreen of his phone, and begins preparing himself for Harry’s arrival for dinner in seven hours. 

 

Grandpa William sets the table while Louis and Grandma Maggie do the cooking. 

“I asked him if he had any allergies and he smiled so nice and said ‘No m’am,’” Grandma Maggie says as she stirs the pasta. 

“Yeah, he’s very polite,” Louis says as he shakes a bag of premade salad into a bowl and tosses it. 

The door pops open and Grandpa William shouts inside, “The nice boy has arrived.”

“He has a name!” Louis says, but the door has already clicked shut. Through the wall, Louis hears a familiar chuckle. He gulps. 

“Go say hi, I’ve got this,” Grandma Maggie tells him. Louis nods and ducks out the door, carefully looking at his feet taking the metal steps to gather more time to prepare to see Harry. 

When he does, he tries to keep his face neutral. He hides the spark in his chest and the lump in his throat. 

“Hey,” he says, too quiet. 

“Hey,” Harry responds, and it’s so different than his usual gusto that Louis wants to hit himself. 

“We made pasta,” Louis tells him lamely. He is very aware of his grandfather trying not to eavesdrop from his seat at the picnic table but utterly failing. 

“Sounds good!” Harry says, but the enthusiasm seems fake to Louis. He could be imagining it, but he somehow doubts he is. Suddenly, Louis wonders why Harry is even here, why he didn’t just tell Grandma Maggie he was busy and turn down the invite. Louis thinks he would have if their roles were reversed. 

Grandma Maggie is the saving grace as she flings open the camper door and comes out bearing a dish of pasta. “Can one of you grab the salad?” she asks, and Louis takes the opportunity to pop inside where he can gather himself. 

He doesn’t take long, but staring at himself in the glass of the window above the sink does wonders for his cluttered mind. Then Louis grabs the salad and heads back out.

“There’s parmesan if you want to sprinkle any on top,” Grandma Maggie tells Harry as Louis sits down. His grandparents have sat across from one another, so Louis and Harry are sat facing one another on the other end of the table. 

Harry nods and takes the parmesan. “Thank you, gotta love cheese.”

Louis adjusts his feet, untucking them from their crossed ankle position under the bench, trying to look more casual and relaxed. He hits something under the table. It disappears in an instant and when he looks up, Harry’s sheepish gaze tells him it was his feet. 

“How long  _ are _ your legs?” Louis tries to joke, but his inflection falls flat even to his ears. Grandpa William gives him a weird look. 

Harry shrugs. “Pretty sure my inseam is like...longer than your height.”

Louis stills at the joke, then lets it wash over him so that he laughs. This is fine, this is Harry. This is the goofy kid Louis has been falling for ever since he arrived at the beach. He just needs to make sure Harry is still falling for him too. 

The dinner is still somewhat awkward. Grandma Maggie and Grandpa William fill most of the conversation, telling some stories from their younger years as Harry baits them with questions. Louis listens and is thankful everyone else feels chatty as he slowly eats his pasta. 

When they finish, Louis and Harry help bring the dishes inside. Then Harry grabs the towel and says “I’ll dry.” This leads to an assembly line in which Grandma Maggie washes, Harry dries, and Louis puts away. The busy work is nice, but Louis gets the feeling Harry is trying to not leave too fast, but not talk to Louis one-on-one before he does. Louis doesn’t think he blames him. 

When the dishes are all done, Louis follows Harry out of the trailer. Grandpa William is at the fire ring, making his trademark log cabin style fire. There is a stack of newspaper and kindling beside him to make his artistry. 

“I’d offer you to stay for our fire but…” Louis trails off, not knowing where to go with his sentence.  _ But I assume you want to leave. But I’m sure you don’t want to look at me anymore.  _ Harry is looking at him though, directly in the eyes, and Louis almost feels challenged to finish the sentence. 

“Let’s...want to walk?” he asks instead. Maybe last night or this morning he wasn’t prepared, but Louis knows that he needs to be prepared for this conversation  _ right the fuck now _ . 

“Yeah, okay.” They turn and head for the boardwalk road, side-by-side but a specific distance apart to avoid their hands brushing. 

Louis waits until they are a few campsites away from his before speaking. “I want to apologize for the other night.” Harry is silent. “I… I needed to figure some things out and it truly wasn’t your fault at all. I just…” And Louis doesn’t see a way to continue this conversation, to give Harry the closure about that night that Louis wants to without, for the first time, saying the words “I’m gay” right now. In the middle of the campground. 

“Let’s go down by the water.”

Harry nods and they both toss off their sandals and carry them as they trudge through the sand. On the other side of the campsites, the water’s edge is hundreds of feet away. No one is going to hear them, especially not over the waves and the gulls. 

They stop, in synchronization, when their toes touch the first wave of cold sea water. 

“Harry,” Louis starts again, and when he sneaks a glance towards Harry, to his left, Harry is looking right at him. “I didn’t know I was gay until...the other night.”

Harry’s eyes widen slightly, but he composes himself. “Oh, that… that makes a lot more sense.”

Louis nods, a few tiny bobs like a seagull sitting on the water. “It probably seems crazy--”

“No,” Harry tells him immediately. His eyes are far off, and Louis imagines he is replaying Louis’s departure with a new understanding. “No, it makes perfect sense. And like… are you worried cause you’re...what, nineteen?”

“Well… yeah. Not knowing you’re gay until you’re nineteen is stupid as fuck.”

Harry focuses on Louis. “My uncle didn’t know he was gay until he was forty five.”

There is a beat as Louis lets that sink in. 

Harry continues. “It can happen… whenever.”

“When did you know?” Louis asks. 

Harry waits a moment to answer, looking back out at the waves. “It was a process across maybe… two years of high school? Well--I think I’ve actually always  _ known _ , you know? But I didn’t think about it until my sophomore/junior year. And didn’t date a boy until my senior year, right before graduation actually.”

Louis lets himself wonder for a moment who this first boy was, the first one Harry crushed on and teased and flirted with. 

“Wait so…” Harry starts, then rushes on, “was I your first kiss?”

Louis nods, then realizes. “Well, first male kiss. I kissed a girl friend in like… eighth grade.”

Harry laughs. “A girl, space, friend?”

Louis laughs. “Yes, a girl,  _ space, _ friend.”

Harry begins to move then and Louis follows. They walk through the shallows, following the shoreline. Despite the Florida heat, the water keeps them cool. After just a few moments, Louis has the courage to reach for Harry’s hand, knitting their fingers together. When he looks at Harry, he’s smiling hugely but without teeth as he tries to hide it. 

They walk as far as they can without turning around the point of the island and heading for the intercoastal. In that time, Louis learns that Harry has a sister and a mom, who is also divorced from his birth father. He went to grade school in southern California before his family moved to Arizona for his junior high and high school years. In contrast to Louis, who was born and raised in Pennsylvania, Harry has moved a  _ lot _ . 

“Do you go home much?”

Harry thinks about it. “No... My sister is in grad school overseas so it’s really just when she is home for breaks that I go too. I do miss seeing my dog though.”

“Well, you can visit Barack anytime.”

“You’re grandparents must be raging liberals.”

“What was your first clue?” Louis says with a laugh. 

Harry thinks for a moment. “So..they’re going to be cool with us, right? Like, I kinda got the vibe your grandma already thinks we are a thing but like...it won’t be an issue?”

Louis has not gotten this far yet in his personal musings about being gay. Granted, he’s thought about the fact that he will tell Lottie and his mom and the rest of his sisters at… some future point. But not about the immediacy of his grandparents who are literally going to witness Harry and him being together. 

“Uh… I think so?” Louis says. “I guess we’ll find out?”

Harry nods, then looks earnestly at Louis. “Let me know if you need anything. At all, when you’re...like figuring out how to tell them or whatever. Or if you want me there. Or anything. At all.”

Louis’s chest flutters like his ribs have opened up a little to let Harry in. He’s such a  _ pure _ human being. Who also might be an adrenaline junkie who wants to give Louis a heart attack, but pure nonetheless.

“Thank you,” Louis says, then takes the hand Harry is holding and brings it to Harry’s face to hold him still for a kiss.  

Before they depart, having walked long enough Harry decides to go back to his campsite rather than join Louis’s campfire, Louis asks him on a date. 

“Want to spend...like an actual good meal together?” Louis asks. 

“That isn’t ice cream or tension filled?” Harry says with a smirk. Louis is glad they’re already at the point that they can joke about it. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Louis says and leans into Harry’s side a little. “Is the diner on the island good?”

“The best,” Harry says. “And I haven’t been there in forever.”

“What days do you have off? Want to do brunch?”

“Wednesdays and Sundays,” Harry says. “And I love brunch.”

“Sunday then?” Louis asks. 

“Sunday,” Harry says. “It’s a date.”

 


	6. Heart is Full

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grandma Maggie: Patron Saint of Grandmotherlyness

Sunday can’t come soon enough. Although Louis and Harry see each other in the meantime, going on a proper date with Harry excites Louis. He has never been on a date with a boy. He’s taking a boy on a date. Thinking the phrases gives him a kind of power, and he’s a little drunk on it. 

Harry rides past their campsite at least twice a day on his ATV going to and from his camper. He almost always stops for a moment, just to say hi and pet Barack. Louis even walks Barack to Harry’s trailer one night shortly after dinner and they spend time around the fire, just the two of them, before Louis needs to get Barack back to his grandparents. 

They steal some kisses and share causal touches, but Louis hasn’t told anyone. He grows increasingly sure Grandma Maggie is on to them, if her sidelong looks when Harry stops by their site hold any meaning. But she doesn’t say anything and Louis appreciates her giving them space to just  _ be _ right now. There’s something special about just them knowing. Harry hasn’t told Zayn, Liam, or Niall and so they bask in the secrecy while it lasts, giggling like school kids when they kiss on the far side of Grandpa William’s truck or under the stars at Harry’s site. 

When brunch comes around, Louis borrows Grandpa William’s truck for the morning. Harry doesn’t have a car, apparently just drives his ATV to the convenience store, and Louis has been planning to drive anyways. He is going to be a proper boyfriend for his first proper date with a boy. He doesn’t care if he sounds about thirteen years old when he thinks it; firsts as a nineteen year old are still fun.

Harry walks to their site around eleven and Louis jumps up from where he is sitting at the picnic table to usher Harry to the truck. 

“Bye!” he calls to his grandparents. 

“Good morning!” Harry calls to them, and shoots a whistle to Barack on his tie out.

“Good morning, Harry!”

“This thing is huge,” Harry says as he uses the running board to climb into shotgun. Louis walks around the car and hoists himself into the driver’s seat, adjusting the chair forwards from Grandpa William’s setting. 

“It’s a 350 apparently, my grandpa is super proud of that for some reason. But I don’t really know what that means other than  _ big _ .”

Harry laughs as they pull out of the campsite, and Louis watches his grandparents in the rearview mirror as they watch the truck leave. 

“Do they know?” Harry asks. “Like did you tell them?”

“No,” Louis says. He turns to Harry for a moment, taking in the raybans on his face, thin gray t-shirt and jean shorts. It’s one of the few times Louis has seen him without his hat holding back his hair and it’s falling to the side of his forehead in a tousled curtain. 

“Oh, cause your grandma is making heart eyes and looks stupid proud so I assumed,” Harry says. 

“She’s onto us for sure,” Louis says. “I just haven’t confirmed I guess. Doesn’t really feel like I need to at this point.”

“Maybe make sure...she doesn’t say anything to your parents though,” Harry says. “Just a thought.”

Louis is braking at the stop sign leaving the campground and nearly puts them through the windshield. 

“Woah,” Harry says, putting his hands on the dash. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, slightly panting as they ease away from the stop sign extra carefully. “That just… wasn’t something I’d thought of yet.”

“Oh, sorry,” Harry says sheepishly. 

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s good advice. It was just a surprise because I--I didn’t consider that.”

There is silence in the car as Louis thinks and Harry bites his lip, chewing on the skin briefly, and then they arrive at the diner. 

Louis parks the massive truck in the furthest spot, too nervous about navigating the vehicle to park beside anyone else’s. Harry hops out with ease, meanwhile Louis feels like he is jumping from the roof and they head inside brushing shoulders. 

“Two?” the hostess asks. Louis nods and they are lead to a small round table at the window, overlooking the ever present ocean. 

They both sit and immediately turn to the view. “Does it ever get old?” Louis asks. 

“Never,” Harry assures. 

“You know,” Louis says, “when I arrived at the site it was only the second time I’ve ever been to the ocean.”

“What was the first time?” Harry asks. 

“A trip to Maine when I was probably... seven?” Louis suddenly laughs. “Over half my siblings weren’t even born yet!”

“So, you’d never been to a beach before? Like a sand beach?” 

“Well, I’ve been to beaches on lakes. I assume they dump the sand there.”

Harry smiles, just pushing his dimples deeply into his cheeks. “A trip full of firsts,” he muses. Louis supposes it is. 

They both order coffees and orange juice, then pancake stacks. Louis goes for the special, buttermilk, while Harry gets banana cinnamon ones. 

“Pancakes are their speciality,” he tells Louis when the waitress leaves after taking their orders. 

Louis feels something poke his foot then and catches a sly look in Harry’s eye, just a sparkle of mischievousness. Louis pokes the poke back and then they’re tangling their feet, Harry’s flip flopped toes pushing against the laces of Louis’s Vans and their ankles brushing. 

“What are you smiling about?” Louis asks coyly as he brushes the toe of his shoe against Harry’s ankle bone. 

“Just happy,” Harry says in a voice that is almost singing. 

“One stack of cinnamon banana and one buttermilk,” the waitress announces as she swings into view. Louis leans back from where he’d been drawing closer to Harry, elbows on the table as he leaned forward, overly engaged in the man across the table. Harry’s feet shift against Louis’s, like he is thinking of pulling them back but they never lose contact. 

“Thank you,” they say in unison as she sets them on the table. 

“Can I get you anything else?” 

Louis surveys the table where they already have syrup and butter. “I think we’re set.”

The waitress bustles away and leaves Louis and Harry alone. Around them, other people chat through their meals, a steady din in the diner. It’s busy, as expected, but Louis and Harry seem to be going unnoticed. 

They eat in silence, both too enamored by their pancakes for a time to make conversation. When Louis finally look up from his plate, it’s to watch Harry eat a piece of pancake tongue first. Louis stares as Harry greets the forkful with his tongue before chewing. 

“What--nevermind,” Louis says, tucking back into his own food. 

“Wha?” Harry asks through his mouthful. 

“Nope,” Louis says. He wants to kiss Harry’s stupid, sticky mouth. Really,  _ really _ badly. And a family friendly diner is not the place for it. 

They finish their meal quickly and wait a surprisingly short time for the bill. This becomes a complication. 

“ _ I  _ invited  _ you _ so  _ I’m _ going to pay,” Louis tells Harry, a hand on the check. 

“Yeah, but  _ I _ have a  _ job _ ,” Harry says, also putting the tips of his fingers on the receipt to pin it down. 

Louis supposses it is a good argument, but wants compromise. “Let’s just pay for ourselves then. Our meals were the same price, so it’s just split down the middle.”

Harry looks sullen for a moment, then agrees. 

They leave a twenty percent tip on the table, then walk back out into the Florida heat. Harry flops his sunglasses off his head and back onto his face, glancing around the parking lot for the pick up truck. Louis takes his hand and leads him to the car, where he steers Harry to the far side, where they are shielded from onlookers, and presses him up against the paint.

“Lou--” Harry gets out before their lips meet. Harry’s lips are still sticky from the syrup and Louis loves the sweetness. He sucks on Harry’s bottom lip for a hot minute, savoring it, before Harry deepens the kiss, tongue pressing against Louis’s mouth. 

They jump apart when a car beeps, someone hitting lock on their key fob.

“You taste like cheap coffee,” Harry tells Louis, still pressed close to his skin. It’s a whisper, meant just for Louis and not even the air around them. 

“You’re sweet,” Louis tells him in response, nosing at Harry’s ear as he tucks his face into his neck. “The sweetest, the kindest.”

“Stop, it’ll go to my head,” Harry tells him with a half hearted laugh. He sounds breathless though, and Louis pulls back a hair to look at Harry’s face. It’s true, he looks overwhelmed, worked up. It still terrifies Louis to think of something more than just... _ this _ with a boy but he figures he’ll get there. The safety of a fucking parking lot at noon is that you can’t fuck in a parking lot at noon. 

However, there is a giddy spark in Louis in thinking that Harry is turned on by him. It’s a little shooting star through the worries and Louis presses up to kiss Harry again. It’s slow, savory. Harry takes time, like they have all the worry of a star set to burn for billions of days more. Louis hopes they will. 

 

That night, Grandpa William blessedly turns in early, leaving Louis and Grandma Maggie around the campfire with Barack resting behind their chairs. 

“Hey Grams?” Louis asks. It’s a little nickname, one only Lottie and him use with her.

She smiles and puts down her cell phone, looking directly at Louis beside her. The flames reflect on her glasses, making it hard to see her eyes, but Louis knows he has her attention. 

“Harry said something when we were together this morning… and it just got me thinking.” He’s nervous, because if he’s read everything wrong and she has no idea that he is dating a man then this conversation will be a  _ lot  _ different. But he feels sure he is right about her inklings. 

“What did he say?” she asks.

“Well, um… I assume you’ve realized we’re like...together?”

Grandma Maggie nods her head, the flames moving off her lenses and back on. 

“My mom, and Dan too, don’t, uh--I’m not out at home.” Louis feels like he is swallowing a pill the size of his fist. “And I just wanted to--please don’t say anything to them because I’d rather--I should be how they find out.”

“Lou, don’t worry,” she inserts as soon as his rambling is done. “I haven’t said a word.”

Louis breaths an audible sigh of relief. 

“And Louis, don’t…” Grandma Maggie pauses, like she is debating her next words. “Don’t feel that you have to tell them soon. Or at all. That’s for you to decide. You don’t  _ need _ to do anything.”

Louis knew his grandparents were democrats but damn, he did not know Grandma Maggie would be this supportive. As he sits in shock, she reaches across the gap between their chairs and puts a worn hand on his arm. “Do whatever is going to make you and Harry at peace.”

Louis sits with this, Grandma Maggie’s warm hand just gently holding his arm as they bask in the fire. He stares into the flames,  the light leaving traces on his sight. 

“I think,” he eventually says, without preamble, “I want to tell them. At least...my mom. Soon.”

Grandma Maggie makes a noise of affirmation and in it Louis can hear her fond smile. 

 


	7. Ashore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a·shore (adverb): to or on the shore from the direction of the sea.

The next night, Louis joins Harry, Niall, Liam, and Zayn in the employee campground for another fire. They all call greetings when Louis comes into view, and Harry stands to welcome him to the fire by the Airstream camper. 

Louis almost can’t believe the shorts Harry is wearing, which must be women’s. They’re black with white piping, curving up on the sides of his thighs to reveal pale skin that doesn’t even see sun in his tiny swim trunks. Louis catches Liam’s eye, who must have seen Louis’s thoughts clear on his face. Liam looks at Harry’s shorts, pointedly, then rolls his eyes. 

Harry swallows him in an embrace, arms wrapped fully around Louis before releasing him to set up his chair between Zayn and him. Louis settles the legs into the sand before plopping into the chair, kicking off his sandals, and stretching his feet towards the fire. 

Niall offers Louis a beer this time, which he accepts and cracks open immediately: it hasn’t been thrown over the fire. At the same time, Harry accepts what appears to be his second. 

This begins a rather drunken night. Despite the fact that Louis is sure the other four have to work the following morning, every one of them drinks at least four beers before Liam calls it quits. By this time, they’re surprised they haven’t been yelled at for their rowdy, loud laughter. 

“So then,” Niall is laughing, “Harry has to figure out how to get off the boat without doing the splits--”

“And you were  _ zero _ help cause you’re laughing so hard,” Harry rasps at Niall. 

“But then--but then you fell in instead of ripping a hip flexor,” Niall continues, “and the family renting the boat was just floored cause they’re convinced it’s their fault--”

“When in reality, this dick just untied the boat too soon cause he was trying to get back to his phone and flirt,” Harry says grumpily, kicking at Niall’s chair. 

“I’mma turn in too,” Zayn says, and Louis almost jumps. He had forgotten Zayn was still in the chair beside him. He turns and Zayn is looking wistfully after Liam. “Let’s hope he didn’t lock me out again.” Zayn folds up his chair, tossing his empty beer cans into Harry’s recycling bin, and heading into the darkness. 

“Is that my queue too?” Niall asks, slightly slurred and too loud.

“If you want it to be,” Harry says, kicking his chair one more time for good measure. “You know, maybe that fall was how I messed up my toe.”

“Doubt it, you’re clumsy as hell. Probably stubbed it,” Niall says like he  _ definitely _ thinks he’s at fault for Harry’s toe.

Louis laughs as Niall tries to depart as soon as possible with the air of someone completely guilty. 

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless,” Louis tells Niall as he practically runs away. 

“Not with a match to your wood cabin!” Harry shouts after him. 

Louis and Harry stare into the flames for a few minutes after the others depart, both seemingly lost in thought. 

“Don’t have any more wood,” Harry notes as the last intact piece crumbles apart under the flames. “Want to go inside?” He motions to his trailer, practically glowing from the flames and moonlight. The rainbow lights along the trailer’s awning reflect off the silver surface in tiny bursts like prideful stars. 

Louis nods and Harry douses the last of the fire, a treacherous activity considering the wobble in some of his steps. Louis gathers their beer cans to toss in the recycling, eyes not quite focusing on everything they should. When a warm hand touches his waist, he leans into it and Harry guides him inside where they flop onto the sofa together. 

“You’re sticky,” Louis tells Harry as he rests his cheek against Harry’s shoulders. 

“‘Tis summer in Florida,” Harry announces, a hand finding Louis’s knee and squeezing. Louis squeaks. “Shouldn’t have drank,” Harry says, “I get so tired.” He punctuates it with a yawn, and Louis watches as his mouth pulls wide, teeth showing. 

“What?” Harry asks when he catches Louis watching. 

Louis shrugs. “You’re cute.”

“Ditto,” Harry murmurs, and Louis realizes Harry’s literally ready to fall asleep. 

“Harry, go to bed,” Louis tells him. Harry grunts in recognition of the words but doesn’t move. “Harry, get in your bunk.”

Louis uncurls himself from Harry’s side and tugs on his arm. “Fine, fine.” Harry moves from the sofa further into his trailer. At the back is a hallway with a bunk on either side, but Harry has made one into a wardrobe of sorts with bins and duffel bags. He quite literally is living out of his suitcase. 

Harry clumsily pulls his shirt over his head and then sits on the edge of the bed, staring at his feet. 

“What?” Louis asks. 

“I always shower before bed ‘cause...sand. But…” and Harry just pulls his legs up into the bed anyways. “I need to wash my sheets anyways,” he murmurs. 

“Okay, well goodnight Harry,” Louis tells him, taking a step towards the door. He bumps the stove, and Harry’s metal kettle clanks as it slips off the burner where it sits permanently. 

“Lou, c’mere,” Harry murmurs and Louis turns in time to see him making grabby hands in the air as he lies on his side. 

“Harry, that’s a twin sized mattress.” But Louis is already taking the step back towards Harry and letting him grab Louis’s shirt by the hem to reel him in. Louis kicks off his shoes as he goes. 

“Can’t let you...wander the campground...in this state,” Harry says as Louis settles onto the bed, tucking his legs along Harry’s as he draws Louis closer. Harry sighs contentedly, tucking his face against Louis’s collarbone. 

“I think you had more than me,” Louis says, as though he still intends to be released. He knows he doesn’t though, would never disturb Harry looking so adorable. As Louis closes his own eyes and lets the tension out of his neck to rest his head on the pillow, he wonders what his grandparents will think of his empty bed.

 

In the morning, Louis wakes to a whistling water kettle. He blinks his eyes open, the bunk area of Harry’s Airstream dark, and focuses on the clinking as someone removes the kettle from the stove. 

“Morning, sorry.” Harry has his bright eyes fastened on Louis as he pours the hot water into a french press, the glass fogging. 

“It’s fine,” Louis murmurs, sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven,” Harry says. “I have to be at the marina by eight.”

Louis straightens his shirt, uncomfortably askew after a night on his side, and then thinks of something. “How did you get out of the bunk? I was on the hallway side.”

“ _ Very _ carefully,” Harry says with a smile. “Also, you were sleeping really heavily.”

“Oh god, did I snore?” Louis asks. 

Harry giggles and it’s the only answer he needs. “Ugh, sorry.”

“Eh, I snore too.”

Harry stirs the coffee and lets the press sit to brew. He comes back to the bunk, falling down beside Louis and laying back, so his legs are hanging off the mattress and his head is against the dark, wood wall. Louis flops over, putting his head on Harry’s stomach. A hand begins carding through his hair. Louis hums in appreciation. 

“You’re such a babe,” Harry says and Louis almost thinks he heard wrong because when is a boy ever a babe? But then Louis thinks about Harry’s shorts and peachy bum and backwards hats. 

“Nah, you’re the babe,” Louis says, fondness growing for the term. 

Harry shifts beneath him and Louis realizes it’s him shaking his head. “So wrong,” he sighs. His hands move down from Louis’s hair to brush over his back, scratching lightly for a moment between his shoulder blades and then landing at his waist and fitting into the curve. “Babe,” Harry says with finality. 

“Okay,” Louis easily agrees, eyes closed. It’s almost dead silent as the coffee brews and Harry just breathes, exhaling slow like he is falling back asleep. 

When a timer on Harry’s phone goes off, Louis is startled awake. Based on the groan from Harry, he had fully lapsed back into sleep too. They both rise from the bed slowly, harry retracting his arms from where they’d been wrapped around Louis. But once Louis is standing first, Harry snags him around the waist and hugs him, face level with Louis’s stomach and buried into the soft cotton that covers it. Louis runs his hands through Harry’s hair as he waits for Harry to let go. It takes a moment and then Harry stands and fetches two mismatched coffee mugs from the cabinet and pours Louis and him each a cup of much needed caffeine. 

“Milk?” Harry asks, pulling a half gallon out of the tiny fridge. Louis holds out his cup and Harry adds a splash before doing the same to his own. Then they head outside together, where they sip their coffee until Harry must return inside to dress. Louis gives him a long, coffee kiss before departing the site to let Hary ready for the day. 

Back at his own camper, Louis feels Grandma Maggie watching him but does not engage. His mind is elsewhere, it is remembering the warm flood through his body as Harry played with his hair and the genuine ease in spending a night tucked so closely with Harry. Louis is thinking about how the end of this month puts a sharp pang ricocheting through his chest to ping off of his ribs and spine and the burning star that is his heart. 

“I’m gonna make a call,” Louis says to excuse himself from the campsite. Grandpa William and Grandma Maggie watch him go.

Louis wanders as far as a cell signal reaches down the beach. He’s at the end of the island, where the intercoastal spills out into the sea. As soon as he stops walking, he tries to dial the phone. His nerves make him clumsy, and he reverts to stuffing his phone into his pocket and sitting in the sand to stare at the waves. 

As they push in and pull out, Louis breaths with their rhythm. Whatever unchecked science says water makes people happier does seem to be somewhat true by Louis’s standards. Just a couple minutes pass and he feels confident. He pulls out his phone. 

This time, he dials much more easily. The phone rings three times before it is answered. 

“Louis!” 

“Hey mom,” he replies. She sounds surprised to hear from him, but only slightly. 

“How’s Florida?”

Louis gathers his thoughts. “Good, it’s really good. Much better than I thought.”

When she replies, he can hear her smile. “I’m so glad, baby.”

“Grandma and Grandpa say hi,” he tells her and finds himself playing with the sand beside his leg. He picks up a handful and lets it sift back down between his fingers. 

“The girls miss you,” his mom says, “You should call Lottie. She has stories you’ll want to hear.” Louis laughs, imagining what she is getting up to during a high school summer. He’s sure there more that his mom doesn’t know.

“I will, I will,” he promises her. He doesn’t know why his eyes feel wet, doesn’t like that he is already emotional over this call when there is so much more to get through. 

“Louis?” His mom asks. She can hear  the way his breathing has changed. 

“Sorry, I’m just--I’m a mess of emotions,” he laughs to her, wiping the beginning of a tear. “It’s been… a lot.”

“What has, sweetie?” she asks. 

Louis takes a shuddering breath, closing his eyes and holding the phone tighter to his ear. “I’ve just… things have changed for me. And um--I don’t know, I’ve learned about myself I guess…”

“That’s good, that’s excellent!”

“Yeah--um…” and Louis really does try to breath evenly, taking gulps of air in his pauses and wiping his sandy hand on his shorts so he can rub at his face as tears form faster. “And I--I wanted to tell you that...um...I met someone.”

His mother is silent, but her encouraging nod practically carries through the phone. Louis knows it is there and suddenly wonders how he ever thought she was banishing him from home when she encouraged him to come to Florida. 

“And um… well he’s a boy.”

“Oh, Louis.” She sounds so bright, so happy for him and that’s when he really starts crying. “Sweetie, that’s amazing.”

He tries to be quiet, but knows his words have held a thickness this whole time and she undoubtedly knows he is crying. That’s what moms just do: they know. 

“What’s he like?” she asks him. 

“He’s--” Louis hiccups back his tears, “he’s so amazing, um… he’s kinda goofy but so sincere. And outrageously smart and just like… knows a little bit of something about everything.”

His mom makes a sound of affirmation, a little hum. “And he makes you happy?” she asks. 

Louis nods, then remembers she can’t see him sitting on the beach, eyes closed as he tucks his phone close. “Yeah, he really does. He really,  _ really _ does.”

And that’s when Louis hears a little sniffle on the other end of the line. “I’m so happy for  _ you _ , Lou,” she says. “I just--I felt like you’ve had something holding you back. Not like you weren’t being yourself, but…”

Louis waits for her to finish, unsure where this is going. 

His mom gathers herself, sniffling a few times on the other end of the line. “It just felt like something’s been holding you back, ever since you were a boy. And I had just hoped--” Louis waits as she breaks down into another bout of tears. He finds himself full on crying too now, salt water dripping off the planes of his cheeks to hit the sand below. “I had hoped some adventure would help, getting out of here.”

“I ‘spose it did,” he tells the back of his eyelids. “So, you didn’t know?”

She sighs. “I could have mustered a guess, but no, I wasn't sure of you before you even were. No one was going to know until you did, until you were being you.”

Louis finally opens his eyes and squints them against the beach sun. He can feel his shoulders burning under the rays, probably giving him awful tan lines from his tank top. He lifts his face to the sun and lets it dry his cheeks. 

“Thanks mom,” Louis says quietly. 

“For what?” she asks. 

“This… everything.”

She hiccups a laugh. “You did it yourself, Lou.” He supposs he did. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After rereading this chapter, I feel like I need to make a little note/disclaimer. Louis's coming out moments have gone amazingly well. When I sat down to write this fic, I wanted to write the nuance of having an accepting and open environment but that not meaning sexuality is automatically an easy thing to navigate. Even though Louis had this support waiting in the wings is whole life, it still took him until he was 19 to ever confront the fact that he is gay. On the flip side, not everyone has this kind of support, although I wish they did. Louis's coming out conversations are pretty much as easy as it gets (full of nerves but "good" in the grand scheme of things) and that is not reflective of everyone's experience and I wanted to note that. This is almost unrealistic in it's ease, but I hope someday this will look like the hard version of coming out.


	8. Made of Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Mikky Ekko's song of the same title. Please go listen to his EP, it's amazing.

When Louis returns to the campsite, his grandparents both give him smiles because they know. Of course they do. They don’t prompt him to talk about the call however and he’s thankful for that. 

Louis had texted Harry on his walk back, and as Louis leashes Barack to take him for a play in the waves, Harry pulls his ATV up to the site. 

“Hey, I was on my lunch so I thought I’d just come by,” he pants as he hops off the vehicle. 

He holds an arm out and Louis hugs him, despite Barack pulling at the leash, wanting to get to the water. 

“How was it?” Harry asks. 

“Good, better than good,” Louis says into Harry’s collarbone. “I’m just… exhausted.”

Harry’s voice rumbles a little from Louis’s spot by his chest. “Your eyes look red.”

“Yeah… I cried a lot.” 

Harry clutches him tighter for a moment. “But like a good cry?”

“A really good cry.” 

 

They eventually make their way down to the waves with Barack. Louis holds the unclipped leash as Harry throws the tennis ball into the water again and again for the dog. Several times, Barack brings the ball back to Louis instead of Harry and they laugh. 

When Harry leaves to return to the marina, he promises Louis they will see one another tonight. “We can walk Barack, or sit by the fire. Or whatever you want.” 

Louis gives him a quick peck on the lips and then Harry has to leave but Louis watches him traveling down the boardwalk until it curves out of sight. 

 

Later, Louis also texts Lottie. Now that he is on this track, it feels like his train is accelerating faster and faster. She may be younger, but they’ve almost always told one another everything. It’s not a sense of obligation so much as a want to continue sharing. 

_ Call me after school if you can  _ he writes.  _ I have something to tell you.  _ Louis wonders for a moment if phone calls, and not face-to-face is a cop out, but what can be expected of him when he’s hundreds of miles away. 

 

Later, Harry visits the campsite again. It is as the sun is going down, the ozone turning pink and dreamy under the treatment of the sun’s rays. Louis leaves with him, walking hand-in-hand to Harry’s trailer where they adventure behind the site and into the waters of the inlet. To one side, a peak of the intercoastal homes is available and to the other the open ocean. They laugh and splash each other with the salt water, Harry’s hair plastered to his head and spiking at the back of his neck. Louis has stolen his hat, the dark green cap perched on his own head as he skips away from Harry’s splashes. 

When the sun has fully disappeared beyond the horizon, they climb back up the water’s edge to Harry’s trailer where they dry off. Harry wraps them both in a double large beach towel, smashing Louis into his chest and ruffling his hair with a hand gloves in the towel while Louis laughs. They leave the towel hanging over the arms of Harry’s trailer awning and venture to the real coast. Here, they wander, silently. The sun disappears more and more. When they finally look away from one another, the stars are poking out of the navy sky. A streak of purple still resides on the horizon but Louis is more invested in watching the shape of Harry disappear in the light. 

Eventually, they are sat on the beach far down the island. Louis has a hand entwined with Harry’s, gently playing with his fingers and investigating the tattoos around the knobby bones. 

“What are yours?” Harry asks Louis. Louis looks down at his own, a paper plane and a little skateboarder. 

“Reminders of high school, if I’m going to be honest.”

“Good or bad?” 

Louis thinks about it. “They just… are.” There is a long pause. “I want to get more though. More meaningful ones now that I’m a little older.” 

“We’ll get one together someday,” Harry says and Louis’s chest trills at the use of “someday.” 

Then Harry launches out of the sand and runs for the shallows. Louis hefts himself from the sand and slowly follows. As Harry moves down the coast, his laugh echoing back to Louis, he is barely discernible from the dark sand and wind and midnight light. Louis wonders if perhaps Harry is Asterion, ruler of the stars as he creates his coastal life. And Louis is a star himself, his heart blazing as it’s in Harry’s grasp, outshining all those in the sky above. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap! Thank you so much to anyone who read, this fic means a lot to me and is my first big venture into identity realization. This is realm of literature is what I want to write both as fic and as original fiction so any constructive criticism would actually be SUPER appreciated! Come talk to me on my [tumblr](http://slowburntryhard.tumblr.com) if you want!


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